


Tony Stark Is 'Fine'

by WhumpTown



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt Tony Stark, Iron Dad, Protective Peter Parker, Sick Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 11:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: Tony gets sick and Peter takes care of him





	Tony Stark Is 'Fine'

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing to do with Endgame  
> I haven't even seen it yet

The first time Peter corrects himself because he refers to Tony as dad mentally things start joking. Suddenly, all of those bad mental illness jokes sting a little more. He’s frustrated by the kids who party every weekend. The borderline alcoholics. The kids who mumble that they have ADHD because they like to click their pens. Because they don’t know what it’s like.

Every time Peter passes Tony in the hall he’s terrified that the smell of whiskey with waft after the man and that Peter will have to see a side of his mentor that, he’s never seen before. He knows about his troubles, it’s one of the side-effects of being a well-known billionaire. His mentor’s demon in the bottle that swirl and swirl until Tony give up. He knows the stories.

They don’t know what that’s like.

He can remember being twelve and picking out a candy bar in-line. Of course, he was instantly captivated by the image of his hero on the paper. ‘Overdose’ was written broadly across the front in taunting yellow letters. Tony had thrown another party. He’d outdone himself, really, and he kept downing drinks and just doing whatever the pretty girls and boys were giving him. The memory has stuck with him forever and he knows May thinks about how hard he’d cried that day when she sees Tony. 

He thinks about it a lot too. He wishes he didn’t.

No one understands. His school is too big and yet too small. The kids don’t understand what it’s like to watch someone you look to for guidance become crippled near swimming pools or dripping water. They only know Iron Man. News flash, Iron Man and Tony aren’t the same men.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tony strides into the room, his hair still wet from his shower. The Avengers had trained this morning which means that the others should be trailing through soon to join them for movie night. Either way, Tony takes the seat right beside him, even though there is enough sofas and chairs so that no one has to double up. “Whatcha doing?”

Peter turns his tablet around to show Tony but his eyes aren’t focused on watching Tony’s reaction. There’s sweat, not water, on Tony’s brow and Peter would bet money that he’s running a fever. 

“If you…” Tony takes the tablet, Peter lets him and pokes his tongue out as he glares at Peter’s work. “You didn’t… Oh.” Peter watches him work, checking to make sure that Tony’s acting right. He watches Tony tilt his head, so his head isn’t hurting. His right hand is holding the tablet, his left scratching at his slightly overgrown goatee, so his left hand is trembling worse than normal so he can’t trim his face. That’s not good news. 

Tony clears his throat and tilts the screen back at Peter,” you wouldn’t know this, you haven’t taken anything advanced enough for this, but you’ve-” Tony moves on the couch, his body doesn’t move oddly or like he’s hurting so Peter pries his eyes away from Tony’s habits and to the tablet. 

Tony explains a hole in his advanced calculus and Peter understands why Tony dismisses the colossal hole. He’d need to understand a lot more than just some graduate level calc and biomechanics. He’d need doctoral level education and that’s why Tony’s here.

“Yo,” Sam Wilson walks into the room disrupting Tony’s ramble about thermodynamics and business-related math. He claps Tony on the back,” skipped out early on us. Didn’t kick your ass too hard did I?”

Tony scoffs, but Peter detects a hint of something else. Somewhere between an eye roll and a laugh, Tony mumbles,” I could take you, Wilson, with my arm tied behind my back.” 

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. Peter’s almost glad that he doesn’t.

The others come up, showered and looking more relaxed thanks to their stress-relieving fighting. No one else pokes at Tony or Peter. Another good thing because Tony’s sinking back farther and farther into the couch. He’s not just sitting he’s almost asleep and it’s five o’clock. Peter knows he actually slept last night. He slept for hours, enough not to be tired, add that end with Tony’s ability to stay awake for three days straight and the Peter understands this math.

Tony’s sick.

Wet coughing. 

That’s the next symptom and it makes Peter close his eye and hold his breath as Tony limps from the room. As he walks away, his coughs are suppressed in his elbow, the others spare him a sideways glance before turning back to the movie. Peter gets stuck counting how many footsteps Tony takes. The other’s don’t know how quickly this could go wrong and Pepper’s not here to fix it so Peter gets up five minutes after Tony leaves. The other’s don’t even notice.

 

"Friday?" Peter presses another cold compress to his mentor’s head, using just a little bit of force to keep Tony from struggling against him. It’s not surprising how easy it is to keep Tony in the bed. Another ten minutes of this and Peter’s going to pull the nebulizer out and feel like the world’s weirdest eighteen-year-old. 

“Boss’ temperature has risen two more degrees. 104.2 degrees Fahrenheit.” 

Peter bites his lip and looks at Tony. He’s not sweating anymore. Shivering, trembling, and rasping and wheezing with each breath but he’s not sweating. Tony has a severely decreased lung capacity so the flu that’s been going around the compound could take Tony out. That’s a very real possibility that Peter’s got to figure out. 

“Friday, tell Dr. Banner that his temperature is getting higher.” Peter keeps from looking at Tony, to maintain his decision. If he looks at Tony then he might change his mind. Tony will look at him all pitiful and will want Peter to keep his condition silent but given that Tony hasn’t vocally protested… his decision is correct. 

Peter moves off of the ground, pulling the cold compress back, and taking a deep breath. He can do this. Tony can do this. “Tony? I need to start an IV.”

Friday chimes in,” Peter, I would recommend an oxygen canal or mask if you aren’t making plans for a hospital trip. O2 stats have dropped as his temperature rises. By boss’ calculations, O2 stats should drop to 61% in the next five minutes.” 

Tony scoffs at that, rolling his eyes,” Pete, that’s…”

Peter ignores the protest, leaving and gathering the oxygen tanks that Tony keeps in the basement for times like this. When Tony’s sick and they’ve got two options, work out here in the garage, use the temperature control to lower the fever, the oxygen to raise his O2 stats or they can take him the hospital where he’s going to break out, naked if he has to, just because he hates hospitals. 

“Precaution,” Peter lies and ignores Tony’s half-hearted eye roll. “I’ll let you take it off if your oxygen doesn’t fall.” It’s a cruel hope and they both know it. Tony sits up, curling in on himself when his body tries to reject to his lungs. Peter is there in a flash, hauling him up until he’s sitting up.

“Is there anything I can do?” Peter does his best to secure Tony in a comfortable position, thankful that at least the haggard, half-aware eyes looking at him won’t remember this. Resigning back to his previous job, Peter dunks his rag into the cold water and presses it to Tony’s forehead.

It’s been hours of this dance, Tony becomes aware enough to mumble something about not being sick, his oxygen drops, his temperature rises, and then Peter is thrown back into silent panic as Tony slips into a fever delirium. 

Red rimmed eyes open and Tony looks around, looking straight over Peter. He draws in a breath but it gets caught in his chest twice before rushing out. The next one does the same thing. 

“Mr. Stark? Tony?” Peter grabs the older man by the shoulders, pulling him up until he’s leaning against Peter chest-to-chest. He keeps breathing in the shaky, wrong manner until Bruce gets there. The man comes barreling into the room, his face green around the edges but put together enough that Peter feels safe when he comes to Tony’s side. 

“Keep him steady, Peter,” Bruce mumbles something to himself, frowning when he presses his stethoscope to Tony’s back. He shakes his head and moves the tool around, Peter watches over Tony’s shoulder. His hand coming to clench Tony’s shirt when the man draws in a breath that Peter, for a horribly long second, thinks he isn’t going to release. “He’s got a bad chest infection but right now we need to get his fever under control.”

Tony moves in Peter’s arms, moving his head from where it had limply fallen to Peter’s shoulder. Gasping between breaths that he’s hardly in control of he manages,” he’s not even a real doctor, Pete. I’m-I’m fine.” Even though he ends the sentence and falls back against Peter. 

Peter nods and puts his hand on Tony’s neck, now afraid that he’ll just fall to the side and hurt himself. “I know, Tony. Friday?”

“The shower is on and functioning when you’re ready.”

Bruce nods,” no point in an IV if we’re going to toss him in the shower.” Bruce rubs Tony’s back, wondering what kind of torture he’s going to have to put Tony through in an hour or so to get some of this gunk out his chest. “Ready Tony?”

Tony comes to underneath the harsh spray of cold water pounding against his face. He sputters, jerking to get away but Peter’s there too. He’s holding Tony down and if it weren’t for the distinct scent of Peter and Pepper’s shampoo that’s running into the drain he’d spiral into Afghanistan. “You-You better hide t-that bottle.” Tony feels his eyes start to roll back and he fights it with a jerk and finds his arms being folded across his chest by Peter’s much steadier hands. 

“You kicked it off the wall, Mr. Stark. I’m afraid it’s you that Pepper is going to kill.” 

Tony is grounded by the sound of Peter’s voice. His head resting against Peter’s chest allows him to hear the rumble of the boy’s voice and even in the threat of Pepper killing him for knocking her shampoo over at least this feels good. “I’m s-sick, she’ll go easy on me.’

Bruce comes into his field of vision, leaning over them and pressing a hand to his forehead. “Friday?”

“Boss’ temperature is holding strong at 102.1.”

Tony feels useless as they fight to get him out of the tub. He can’t hold his own weight and he knows he’s fallen back farther on the ‘underweight’ scale. Peter and Bruce are good, neither pressing in too close or moving too quickly. By the time they make it back to the bed, Peter has to lift Tony’s legs into the bed but his breathing is much calmer than before. 

“Let’s get you all hooked up.” 

The medicine, the nebulizer, and the medical reports pile in. Tony doesn’t even stay awake for most of it. In and out as Bruce settles the mask over his face and puts the nebulizer through the hole. Last time, Peter had taken the liberty to draw Spider-man on the mask, making it look like the nebulizer children are given, now the mask is just daunting. 

“Hey!” Peter feels a flare of protectiveness as Bruce misses Tony’s vein again. Tony’s given up fighting and when he digs in his arm this time he just sags against the pillows, taking in a breath that’s on the wrong side of just shakey. “Would you be careful? You’re poking him like a damn pin cushion.”

Tony reaches out, catching Peter’s arm before he can stand. “Breath, Pete. God, you’re worse than Pepper.” He smiles but it’s lost in the haze of the nebulizer forcing medicated air into his shit lungs. Peter doesn’t find it funny. It’s not. It’s nerve-wracking.

He feels for Pepper, he really does. Peter literally has the reports in his lap. Tony lands himself in the hospital once a month. Heart palpitations. Collapsed lung. Pneumonia. That’s just the last three months. Peter could sit out and list out his injuries in alphabetical order. Yet, it was worse. With the Arc Reactor in it seems Tony was more accident prone. More bruised ankles and wrist that needed to be iced or braced. More heart issues, even less lung capacity. 

Tony’s temperature rises again but this time Peter fights it off. He sits right beside his mentor and presses cold rags to his hot skin. He’s not sure how many times he pulls away a hot rag to dunk it back into the cold water and apply it again. It feels like hours, he’s exhausted, but then Tony’s eyes crack back open. “Mr. Stark?”

“Oh fuck,” Tony scrunches his eyebrows together. “How do sober people get hangovers? Pepper’s going-going to kill me.” 

Peter smiles, feeling bad that Tony is so sick but at least he’s rational. He’s lucid and not going to tell Peter to get out of ‘the cave’ or beg him to not tell Tony’s father. “Not a hangover, Mr. Stark. You’re still sober. You’re just coming down from a bad fever.” Peter puts the rag back across his forehead. 

“Is there any water? I feel like someone put the Sahara in my mouth.”

Peter stands looking around the room,” that’s funny because you’re so sweaty you soaked through the sheets.”

Tony grimaces,” that’s disgusting, Pete.”

“You soaked the sheets, sir, not me.” Tony smiles and Peter frowns. “I’ve got to go downstairs, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Tony nods but his stomach churns. It has nothing to do with Peter leaving and everything to do with his stomach revolting. 

It comes quickly, going from slightly uncomfortable to vomit stinging the back of his throat. He fumbles in the sheets, unable and too uncoordinated to just slip out. His feet hit the ground he follows them. Unable to hold his own weight he lays in a puddle on the ground. He gags and he’s pretty sure he’s about to asphyxiate on his own vomit when the bedroom door flies open. 

Blurry tears prevent him from really being able to see but he’s almost positive that he’s being manhandled to his feet by Captain America and Sam Wilson. They get him to the bathroom, Peter’s voice instructing them around the IV tugging painfully in his elbow. They hardly make it to the bathroom but when they do Tony pukes. It hurts and when the vomit stops coming and he’s just laying helpless against the toilet, Peter wipes the dribbled of spit from his lips and holds the glass of water to them.

“You said he was fine, Peter.” Steve looks… mad. Tony lets his head sink back against the toilet and, gracious, Peter lifts his head and moves him to lean against Peter. “You said it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Bruce agreed!”

Peter’s voice is lower,” this is fine for him. He’s breathing on his own and his heart is beating steady. If it were bad, I would have told you.”

Steve is exasperated,” what is bad, exactly? How far would you have let him slip, Peter?”

Tony’s heart starts to speed up, he wants to take up for the kid but he can’t find the energy to even lift his eyes open. 

“He’s got a severely compromised airway, Steve. He’s got arrhythmias that spur up when it’s bad. His fever never rose above 104. If it had, I would have come to get you. I know what to do and-and… he doesn’t trust you. He wouldn’t have wanted you around, you would not have been able to help anyways,”

Tony doesn’t know where the argument goes from there. When he wakes up again, Peter cuddling him.

“If you wake the kid up, Tony, I might have to beat you.” Tony’s eyes lazily make their way around the room, finally landing on Natasha. He smiles at the spy and she smiles back,” good to have you back, Stark.”

Tony smiles and his mouth taste like something died in it. He swallows thickly and before he can ask for the water Natasha is holding she presses the straw to his lips. He sucks greedily at the cool water soothing a dry throat he didn’t even know he had. She pulls it away too soon and puts a cool rag on his head. “Don’t want you throwing up again,” she puts the water on the nightstand and smiles fondly. 

Tony nods in agreeance looking down to the Spiderling attached, literally, to his hip. 

“You scared him pretty good these last few days.” Natasha looks at him too, that fond smile coming back. “Bruce says you should be back at it again in a day or so. Just need to rest now.”

Tony hums and shifts in the bed, getting closer to Peter’s warmth. He’s sleepy and the kid is sleeping too close for Tony to go anywhere but closer. He should have known the kid is a cuddler. 

Natasha stands up, her fingers trailing along his face to gauge his temperature before walking towards the door. “Get some rest, Tony.” 

“Hey, Nat?” He doesn’t even open his eyes to look at her but she still faintly see his face from underneath the blankets he’s buried his head in. “Can you turn on the Andy Griffith Show? Pete really likes it,” he’s cut off by a yawn,” and I don’t want him to be bored when he wakes up.”

Natasha does as he request, mostly because he looks so adorably innocent curled up asleep next to Peter. Neither stir as she leaves, shutting the door behind her. She’s glad Tony’s okay now, after everything the two of them have been through, they deserve some happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> I will, however, probably write something to get over what happens in Endgame so


End file.
